Max trailed behind Liesel up the stairs. She wondered what he was thinking as he watched her—she knew he was watching, his eyes burned.

They reached the fifth door on the left of the third floor and Liesel took out her key. She unlocked the door and stepped in the room. The apartment was small, perfect for a young German bachelorette, but it would be difficult trying to comfortably fit the both of them into the one bedroom apartment. The kitchen was small, containing only the absolutely necessary as Liesel was a minimalist. After growing up with nothing, she understood the importance of never over possessing. Given that Max grew up the same way, Liesel knew that he wouldn't be bothered.

Liesel pondered where she would put Max. He couldn't share the bedroom with her and she had no couch. She took the pin out of her hair and let the blonde, curly tresses fall in waves over her shoulders. When she turned around, she found Max watching her. His dark eyes expressed no emotions, but yet they were so full of them as well. He was once so simple, he'd been changed by the war. Everyone had.

"You can take my room until I find another place for you to sleep," she said, turning to him.

"Where will you sleep?" he asked.

"I will figure that out when I get there. Don't worry." She smiled at him slightly. His dark hair touched his eyebrows in the most perfect way and when he curved his lips up to ever so slightly smile, his prominent nose crinkled a little. Liesel wondered why she loved this so much. Her eyes drifted to his lips, a thin line above his sharp jaw line. She immediately caught herself and smiled again in his eyes, nodding and proceeding to the kitchen after hanging his coat on the rack.

"You must be starving," she said. "I will fix up a meal."

He shook his head. "Nein, don't bother with me. I will be okay."

"Max," she said approaching him, her voice soft as she would talk to a devastated child, "I want to take care of you. I don't have to, I want to. Do not worry about me." She slightly touched his surprisingly well muscled forearm and looked deeply into his eyes.

Max nodded his head and drifted to the kitchen.

"If you insist on keeping care of me, I will insist on helping," he said to her. "What can I do?"

Liesel looked at him stubbornly. She just wanted him to sit down and leave her to her work. She could get lost in her work and not think about the beautiful way his dark hair grazed his ears or how much she wished that—no, he was just a friend. There would be none of that.

"Fine," she said finally.

As they prepared supper, she watched his hands. She had him washing the dishes as she finished with them. Max's hands had a grace about them, slightly burnt by the bitter cold December, and moved fluently through the water while he scrubbed. There was no sense of struggle, he must have been stronger than she thought. He was tall and lean, but built. Liesel's eyes traced the veins on his arms, as he had pulled his sleeves up to preserve them. The small ropes protruding from his forearm made her heart jump a bit. She wanted to feel them. She examined his face, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. He had slight facial hair that was only barely noticeable from a distance.

Soon, they sat down to eat. Max sat across from Liesel at the small dining table in the middle of the room. They ate in silence, but Liesel often caught Max looking at her intently. She felt like a painting in a museum, one that people often look at for hours to discover its true meaning.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" she asked him as she caught him again.

"You're so different. So grown up," he replied.

"Well seventeen is a large jump from twelve, ya?"

"I suppose so," he said smiling. "I just can't help but remember the Liesel that used to read me books in the basement on Heaven Street."

He finished his plate watching her. It was a warm gaze, like he was studying her more than watching. She took his plate and began washing it. He watched from the table. She smiled at this thought. It had been so long since she had enjoyed a boy's attention. She was beautiful, anyone could see that, but she refused to think so. Her blonde locks were flawless and her eyes were a big and beautiful blue. Her form was petite and curved in just the right spots. She thought nothing of herself, however. She was more concerned with rational thoughts like managing her meagre salary and working overtime to pay for the occasional luxuries like a new dress when one of her old ones was beyond repair. Attention from men came easy to her, especially when she became independent. Men would try to woo her, only to receive a blank stare and a soft "No thank you" muttered from her lips.

Max was different. He did not seem to want Liesel's attention, but he seemed to fancy her in the most peculiar manner. She supposed that he knew her well enough to know that she was not interested in such petty desires. This was something she liked about him, something that made him more intriguing than most men.

"Where have you been all of these years, Max?" Liesel asked.

His eyes shot downward and his jaw tightened.

"The war has been over for months," she continued, "why didn't you come back?"

"It's not that simple Liesel," he muttered. "You don't understand."

"I don't understand anything, do I? I've always been a naive young girl that doesn't understand. Do you know what I do understand? You ran to protect us, but when the protecting was done, you never came back. I waited for months and months for you. I never forgot about you, Max. I told stories of you in the darkness of the raids. I missed you so much because I had no one left. Mama, Papa, Rudy. They were all killed. I thought you were killed..."

By this time, she had risen her voice and was only a metre away from him. Her voice trailed off as she realised he had started to tear up. His stone face hid it well.

"It's about time you get some sleep," she said to him.

He stood there for a moment, then closed the space between them and embraced her. She thought he was going to kiss her, but instead placed his lips on her head as he did so many years ago before he walked out of her life.

"Goodnight, Liesel," he whispered. He then released her softly and took the blankets she had laid in the corner earlier for herself and spread them for himself on the cold floor.

She almost protested, but when she saw him lying there with his eyes closed, she couldn't bear to tell him otherwise.

"Goodnight, Max," she whispered from across the room.